


The Fading Ache

by oonaseckar



Category: The Fades
Genre: Angels, Demons, Gen, Life in Wartime, M/M, Monsters, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22558177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oonaseckar/pseuds/oonaseckar
Summary: Mac loves Paul, but so what.  They're all soldiers in a doomed war, where can it possibly go?
Relationships: Paul & Jay, Paul/Mac
Kudos: 3





	The Fading Ache

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter title is Tennessee Williams.

If you knew Paul, like I know Paul, you'd understand why I'm not embarrassed to be in love with him. Social pariah, fixation with the supernatural, bedwetting, freaky nightmares, shrink sessions and all.

But to know Paul like I know him, you'd have to go back years and years with us, to primary school, to my golden year in Year Seven. Then I'd know you as well as I know him, and it might be you I'm in love with. So, careful what you wish for.

Back then I was a different animal socially: not exactly one of the alphas, but I had my place and I was solid. These social evolutions are interesting to watch: unless it's a downwardly mobile trajectory, and it's you. You can be a rowdy little fuck, a popular kid –- translating to bully -- in reception class, then a quiet, stroppy, footie-loving rebel in the final of primary. Fighting with your bestie –- already Paul by then –- midway through middle school, when he busts your elderly console, dropping it after two beers nicked from his temporary stepdad. Making up when he uses his entire savings to replace it, and you feel guilty as fuck.

We were close to outcast even then, but only close. We'd known most of the kids in our little school for years: even as hormones kicked in and everyone cliqued up, it was still civilized. It made secondary school more of a shock. I don't need to tell you about secondary. Unless you're under thirteen you already know. If you are, then a) what the fucking sodding cunting arseing shite are you doing reading this? And b), don't worry kid. It's all puppies and rainbows. No really.

No point traumatizing the little fuckers with the facts.

So, I love Paul, Paul loves his manky horrible demonically beautiful sister's mate. His sister... is some kind of otherworldly being with dry ice in her veins, so love is out of the question, as is a shag. (I wouldn't turn her down. I love Paul, and she's a hellspawn, but I can't afford to be fussy.)

I love Paul, in spite of him being an oblivious self-absorbed little git. With a few good points. I watch him as we sit in his mum's garden shed, and he works on his art project. Maybe it's just proximity? Who else do I have to love, it's a normal human instinct. But you don't have to admit anything you don't wanna. Lying gets a bad rap, undeserved. Mostly from those with a vested interest and advantage in knowing every little last thing about you.

'That thing is supposed to be representing your dreams,' I point out, indicating the mashed-up monstrosity he won't stop tinkering with. 'Your fucked up dreams and the end of the world and nocturnal emissions. Am I right?'

'You're not wrong,' he concedes, licking a strip of paper instead of using a perfectly good sponge and margarine tub of water.


End file.
